Promises, Promises
by Captivated Heart
Summary: Lucy and Amy seemingly have it all after a romantic escape from Endgame and a peaceful time settling into Barcelona, but how long can paradise last when reality comes knocking?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Angela Robinson, saint that she is, owns everything associated with D.E.B.S. I just get to goof off in the background.  
Rating: T, perhaps?  
A/N: Hey, guys! I figured it's time I put something else out here. I have several other pieces (*pauses to count*), in fact eight stories started, two of which are well on their way. I just haven't had a working computer lately to put them up. :) I'm planning on glancing them over and publishing the first chapters soon. Until then, here's this one. And never mind the title; it was more of a working title that never got changed.

* * *

Promises, Promises

Chapter One

Particles of air shifted, not by breath, nor by wind, but by a passing drop of crimson that splattered on wood flooring as cold as it was warm. Blackened eyes, almost unseeing, blinked once out of shock before the entire body crumpled in on itself as the soul was cruelly detached.

Another drop fell as if predicting the start of a bloody rain, but the rest of the sticky life force stained the visitor's handkerchief as the knife that drew it was dragged meticulously across the material.

"You should have remembered the rules, Lucius."

Across the room, tear-stained cheeks trembled and shook as a small hand pressed tighter against the adjoining mouth to keep even a single whimper from escaping. The tan-turned-pale skin was made all the whiter when the visitor's boots clunked step-by-step on the red oak flooring until they came to a stop inches from the hider's flaring nose, the adrenaline coursing through her system allowing her to smell the worn snakeskin as if they were brand new.

She knew they weren't. Everyone in her family did.

"Care to come out, little Lucy?" a voice no less slimy than the boots queried. A chuckle followed. "Didn't think so."

Fresh tears spilled over and her hand killed an already dying cry as the toe of the boot clicked twice before her eyes.

"How are you at carrying messages?" Met by silence, the voice continued. "There's something I want your future self to know. You see, your father wasn't very good at gambling when he was younger. Before you, of course. You changed him… not enough that he paid off everything he owed me, but enough that killing your mother and yourself would mean something to him. But that's the thing. With both of their deaths, I've already taken everything owed to me, namely his entire take as a criminal lord – no, that's too kind… as an overly-glorified diamond thief – but I made your dad a promise. One I intend to keep."

The metallic taste of blood filtered through Lucy's mouth, but the source remained unnoticed.

"What's the promise? Well, I'm glad you asked. Years ago, I promised your dad that if it took until his death for me to be repaid, I'd make his family suffer. Now, your dad wasn't a very smart man if he thought moving to Los Angeles would change all that. Quite the contrary as it expanded my hunting grounds from Europe here to America. Never mind that though; here comes the part you have to remember. I see myself as a forgiving man. You should too because I'm going to play out that promise albeit in a different context. But as you should well know by now, everything comes with a price. Your parents couldn't pay theirs so they couldn't play the game anymore. You though… you just might be able to do it. You see, your payment will be keeping this night in your memory – and only your memory – forever. And when you're ready, come confront me about it."

Here, he paused. Lucy could practically hear his low chortle collide with the air.

"Think you can handle that? I sure hope so. Why is that, you may ask? Because, little Lucy," the boots scrunched together as he bent down and came eye-to-fearful-eye with his audience, "I like playing games and you haven't gotten to play yet."

A strained cry finally managed to edge past her fingers and into the cooling air.

The stranger's hefty laugh overpowered the small noise. "I do so love the sound of suffering."

* * *

"I love the sounds of the marketplace in the morning, don't you, Luce?"

I raised a hand to cover a yawn. "When I've gotten enough sleep to enjoy them, sure." A smirk slipped onto my lips when the blonde I was hooked arms with suddenly blushed red.

"I don't recall that being entirely my fault…" Her head ducked with her voice as we continued strolling past food booths.

"Well, you know me; I'm never to blame for anything."

Amy snuggled in closer as the autumn wind picked up, but her voice remained far off and teasing. "Pretty sure the authorities of several countries would disagree."

I mentally snickered, employing one of my trademark skills to keep my face void of humor. "Damn, I may have to seduce them too."

She pulled far enough away to land a soft, insincere whap on my upper arm. "You're horrible!"

"So I've been told," I quipped before leading her into an independent booth aside from the others with clothing and shoes rather than vegetables or the fish Amy couldn't stand to even walk past.

Few others were browsing the material so both Amy and I were noticed upon arrival by the vendor.

"Buenos días, señoritas! En qué puedo servirles?"

"Gracias, pero sólo estamos buscando," Amy offered in return with a warm smile that only came with doing something she loved. And while I could think of better things to do on a Saturday morning, checking out local markets was something Amy quickly decided excited her after we settled down in Barcelona.

She had barely finished speaking when I veered us off to the left where shoes of all sorts lined the wall. I never really liked sharing her special smile, especially not with this sleazy guy by the look of the merchandise. Amy split off to check out shoes down the aisle, but I glanced at a few before meandering after her.

Cheap rip-offs seemed to be the specialty. Sneakers boasted ownership by Michael Jordan or Lebron James while cowboy boots promoted use by John Wayne. I nearly laughed, but stopped when I noticed the vendor had sidled up alongside me.

"You like the American shoes, yes?"

I shrugged because I was still in a good enough mood not to trash talk the display in front of the owner.

"Shipment came yesterday from cousin in west of America… a lot of new picks available." He chose a spiked high-heel from farther down the aisle and returned with a trademark salesman's grin. He presented it to me as if it could radiate angelic light if tipped at just the right angle.

Just to state the obvious, it didn't.

At my unimpressed look, he quickly put it back and told me, "I should have realized, you are woman of more strength and power than is shown by simple high-heel." He returned with a boot. A snakeskin boot.

When he presented this one to me, I nearly slapped it out of his hand. My fingers flexed into a fist instead and my voice shook. "Where did you get those?"

"From cousin in west of America. Los Angeles. Said to have come from man that…"

"I _don't_ need you to explain where they're from."

He gave a confused look, but stopped his narration.

I had to stop my teeth from grinding for a moment to ask, "How much?"

"Normally ten hundred euros, but for fine young lady such as yourself, only nine-hundred-fifty euros."

"Fine young lady indeed, but that's a bit overpriced for something so worn… and _dead_," Amy incredulously chided upon noticing the exchange.

I handed over the nine-hundred-and-fifty euros and watched the vendor's eyes bug out at the unbelievable deal he just made before turning to Amy. "I think even you can agree with my plans for them."

* * *

"Not to say that I don't agree with the plan, but was it really necessary to throw them in the fire? The house is going to smell for days."

I mumbled an apology and tucked my head further against my knees to stare at the flames. They sizzled and hissed as if giving the snake new life as it cried in agony. Impossible as I knew it was, I hoped it could somehow feel each lick of the flames and transfer the pain to _him_.

"So," Amy gracefully sank to the floor next to me, "you want to talk about it?"

Did I want to talk about it? Not especially. Was I going to? Yeah. That's one of the great things about being in a relationship with a former spy – don't tell them something and they'll find out regardless. Besides, I'm sure a Google image search of the distinctive boots could explain my actions in seconds. It's better she hears it from me anyway.

"Those are Schaeffer's, aren't they?" she quietly intoned, the question confident but unobtrusive.

Who needs the internet with deductive reasoning like that? "They were."

The two murmured words charioted around the room, dragging a wounded silence behind them.

Amy, saint that she is, tentatively broke through the second victory lap. "Are you sure they're his?"

Our eyes met and she interpreted the answer before I spoke it. "I couldn't forget them if I tried."

The slight pressure of her head against my shoulder surprised me, but the delicate, angelic hush in her voice didn't. "But I guess some things are worth forgetting."

Her statement resonated against the slimy residue of his parting words. Was it worth forgetting? "No."

The pressure on my shoulder shifted as she peered up at me. "No?"

"No." I found her hand and laced it with my own. "Every little decision and situation of the past led me to exactly where I am now and I wouldn't change that for the world. Besides, who knows if I would be the same person I am today if I hadn't seen…" The words suddenly lodged in my throat, but I cleared them out with a scuffed cough. "…if I hadn't seen Schaeffer murder my father."

A quiet gasp could be heard just before a crackle from the fire swallowed it up. Hindsight repeated my wording and I realized that probably wasn't the subtlest reveal. I aimed a kiss and comforting hand to her forehead and hair, but instead noticed her eyes filling with tears that had no place there. I took a moment longer to wipe the first salty trails off her cheeks and then offered a safe haven for the rest to get soaked up by my sweater. She gladly sank into my embrace, but having her in my arms created doubt of who was comforting who.

And what did I need comfort for?

She seemed to gather a bit of strength from the hold we had on each other and drew back to look at me with those wet blue pools, their reflection glistening – disturbed to the very core as if a rock had broken the surface and every layer below. I tried my best to hold her pained look, but eventually had to look anywhere else; the floor, our laps so close together, the hand rising to my chin…

"Lucy," my eyes tracked back to hers at her insistence, but the words she had planned inaudibly escaped from her mouth and made it linger open a moment before closing and she simply wrapped me up in a proper hug. And for me, that was enough. Hurt I didn't know still existed inside me emerged timidly from its hiding spot of a decade and shifted in intensity before flowing out of my fingertips dug deep in my lover's pliant skin. She absorbed all of the pain without taking any in and transferred nothing but warmth, love, and a relaxed ease back into me.

I pulled back just enough to come face-to-face and then stole a moment of her lips' time. Her eyes slid closed at the brief touch and her lips moved sensuously even after I was gone as if playing with the ghost of the kiss. Her eyes flashed open again, the tropical seawater blue sparkling back at me, no doubt tricking my eyes into reflecting a bit of their hue back at her.

One thing I learned with Amy early on is that her eyes may be the window to her soul, but her mouth held all the tells of her thoughts. Her eyes still shining brightly with tinges of worry, I instead focused on the widening crescent a little further south. That little smile spoke volumes more than any words ever could. With her, I was safe. With her, I always would be. With her, not even my own thoughts could hurt me.

And Schaeffer certainly couldn't.

Her lips imperceptivity twitched, blatantly telling me she didn't want to say whatever was on her mind. She did anyway. "Why do you think his boots are here?"

A drawn-out sigh teased its way up my throat as I put words to the thoughts I barely wanted to acknowledge. "He's challenging me… reminding me."

"Baiting you."

I nodded, though it wasn't a question.

She sucked in a breath. "So we leave. Pack up and disappear again."

"We can't do that." I gestured to the last cardboard box left in the house that Amy had been working on emptying while I started the fire. "It's not fair to you. Plus, classes start in two weeks. I could never be the one to stand in the way of you living your dream."

"But, Lucy—"

"No, Amy." Resolution strengthened my tone, but also brought an irritating wetness to my eyes. "I'm not letting something from my past destroy our future. If we run, I don't know if or when we could ever come back." I reached for her hand for strength and ended up easing my fingers through hers in a delicate bond.

She rubbed her palm against mine and chuckled. "Don't you get it, Luce?" The delicate bond pulled me close enough to feel her breath mingle with mine. "_You_ are my dream."

My breathing suddenly shallow, I parted my lips and barely processed her eyes flicking down to them. Until her tongue darted out and touched upon my upper lip. Instantly triggered by the slight pressure, our mouths mashed together by my insistence and hands came up to cradle or grab places of interest on the other. I preferred the smooth column of her neck while she seemed to delight more in threading her fingers through my hair.

Yet despite the boiling desire running rampant between us, the kisses slowed to a simmer and the touches lingered longer on over-sensitized skin. I trembled in her grasp, feeling her heart touch mine with every beat.

Passion's urgency having passed, we held tight to each other as raw emotion took its place.

"Whatever's decided," she whispered, "we're in it together."

"For better or worse?" I shyly joked back.

She detangled herself enough that our eyes could meet and our lips could brush before she curled a lock of my hair behind my ear. "For better or worse."


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: *Sings Angela's praises*

Rating: Whatever it was before should be okay.

A/N: I vaguely remember promising an update before November. It just so happens I was reminded by Shoosh over on All Things DEBS to do just that. So, let's get this update going, shall we?

Promises, Promises

Chapter One Ending:

"_Whatever's decided," Amy whispered, "we're in it together."_

"_For better or worse?" I shyly joke back._

_She detangled herself enough that our eyes could meet and our lips could brush before she curled a lock of my hair behind my ear. "For better or worse."_

Chapter Two

"For better or worse, Lucius, remember that part?"

"I doubt the priest had this in mind, Anna."

A hand pressed up against his chest, halting his progress to the nearly full suitcase open on the bed. Still, he refused to meet her bold gaze.

"We aren't leaving you here alone and that's final."

His hand came up to rest on hers and, after a moment's hesitation, gently removed it. "You have to. I can't… I can't protect you here." He moved away to add her clothes to the suitcase, hangers and all.

"Bullshit, Luke. You have safe houses all across the world. We would _all_ be safe in any one of them."

His grip on the side of the suitcase clenched white and the small pinpricks of pain took away some of the much larger pain roiling around inside him. His hold loosened. "He would simply follow. I can't put you and Lucy in danger like that. Not… not more than I already have." He zipped up the suitcase and hefted it off the bed, his hands stilling afterwards, but he couldn't turn around. Couldn't say goodbye.

"I hope you know this isn't happening."

Her tone chilled him and caused the faith in his decision to momentarily waver. When it strengthened again, he muttered to her, "There's no other choice." At that, he strode through the master bedroom's double doors with the suitcase in tow. He stopped cold seeing Lucy just outside the doors, all wet eyes and red cheeks, staring at the suitcase and turning those big eyes on him.

The sight was enough to make him start crying.

Instead, he kneeled down and put a hand on her shoulder, though he had to internally question if it was to comfort her or emotionally-ground himself. "It'll just be for a little while, Lucy-Goose. You know that. Besides, I'm sure Sam could use the company."

"Scud," she hiccupped.

"Right, Scud. The Dierks will take good care of you and your mother while you're away."

"But Daddy, what about you?" she insisted.

He gave a disarming smile and ruffled the raven locks she inherited from her mother. "I just need to finish up a few things here and then I'll meet you at their house. We can all go home together."

"…just need to finish up a few things at the gallery and then I'll meet you at the marina. We can head out together."

"—Hm?" I snapped back to reality, the stray thoughts of the past still clouding my head like cobwebs.

"You weren't listening to any of that, were you?" Amy accused, albeit lightly.

I shook my head and curled my fingers around the coffee mug on the small table before me. "Sorry, just lost in thought."

The curiosity was there – I could see it – but she dropped it and smiled my forgiveness over the rim of her tea. "Meet you at the marina after checking on the gallery then?" She hopped off her stool and slipped both arms into her suit jacket.

I nodded this time, pulling her in for a quick kiss before she dashed out the door of the small café and back to the gallery she recently started interning at. The fact that she landed a paid internship within a week of moving here impressed me beyond belief. That she looked hot as hell dressed for success was an added bonus. For my eyes, anyway. My fists? Not so much. But the more persistent people were catching on quick rapidly that she's taken, much to my relief.

I drew a sip of coffee from the mug, relishing in the slow burn settling through my body, and allowed my thoughts to wander again.

Amy and I had spent the majority of last night talking through what was going to happen. Earlier argument aside, I had wanted to at least ditch the house for now and shake any tail Schaeffer had on us - hence spending the morning jumping from place to place as Amy did the same elsewhere.

It was the fact that she needed to ensure everything would be okay at the gallery before our next step that left me unsettled. Going back there was beyond risky, but she had firmly rebuffed any action deemed too protective or sheltered. "I'm a former DEB, honey," was her main defense. It was a good one, of course, but that didn't mean I had to like it. Especially when it meant I didn't get to go with her to the gallery.

Knowing that was a moot point, I turned my thoughts elsewhere again. What was our next step going to be? The idea of running, at least for a little while, wasn't sitting well with me, but we were out-resourced because I was actually "keeping honest," not to mention we were vastly out-gunned. I didn't need one of Scud's comparative bar graphs to tell me that.

Yet the idea of sticking around here wasn't calming me down much at the moment either, especially with Schaeffer as close to us as he had to be. That was the problem with setting down roots. If it got too hot, we couldn't just up and leave. So with both options out of the running, what Amy and I needed was a reliable door number three.

And I was hoping that's where Scud would come in. He always knew what to do.

"I don't know what to do, what do I do?!"

"Sam, calm down." The soft words shot straight to the little boy's heart and he felt himself calming instinctually. When he no longer looked like he was about to puke, the father continued in his deep, reassuring voice, "Lucy is in shock and needs you to be calm for her. Take her outside while your mother and I take care of things in here."

Deep breaths racked through Scud's lungs, but the overstretched feeling was welcome after they nearly collapsed taking in the Reynolds' manor. The controlled in and out cleared some of the haze the last few minutes had brought, adrenaline dissolving the rest.

Finally calm, Scud once again noticed Lucy vacantly staring at the wall, her hands white-knuckled around her knees. Though only two years older than Lucy's age of twelve, Scud nestled her into his arms and didn't allow himself to feel the strain in his nonexistent muscles until after she was settled in his parents' sedan. Lucy, for her part, actually seemed to notice the change in venue because before Scud could think of anything comforting to say in the least, her eyes widened and light whimpers escaped from her bleeding lips.

Scud hoped beyond hope this was one of those times when words weren't needed. Crawling into the backseat beside her, he curled her body into his chest and waited for any further sign of life from his best friend. When her eyes remained unblinking and the whimpering defiantly persisted, he tucked her head under his chin and opened his mouth, putting faith behind the idea that words would miraculously come.

After choking back several attempts, they finally did. They just weren't true.

"It's going to be okay."

"What's going to be okay, Miss?"

I blinked and looked up to find a rather concerned looking waitress eyeing me. "What?"

The waitress – Ally, according to her uniform – shifted her weight to her other foot. "You were mumbling 'It's going to be okay' over and over and looked pretty distraught."

"Oh, I, uh… just handed in my thesis," I mumbled out the first thing to come to mind and slapped down enough money for a tip and both drinks before breezing out the door and walking towards my car parked five blocks away. Cautious, but necessary.

I stuffed my hands in the pockets of my jeans and toyed with the fabric rounding out the bottom. I used to keep a couple diamonds in each pocket simply because they made good worry stones. Lord knows I could certainly use a few now…

As if she knew I was restless, the ringtone I specially set for Amy went off from my coat pocket.

I always took a few seconds to answer when it was her just because the song always made me smile and spend a few moments down memory lane. She knew it too and patiently understood she had a few seconds' wait until I would pick up.

Even now, Howie Days' softly sung lyrics to "Collide" pulled a genuine smile to my lips and melted away the lingering worry and doubt.

When I finally did answer, my voice was once again cheery and light. "Hey, babe."

"Babe isn't here right now, can I take a message?" a distinctly male voice chuckled, his smug smirk all too audible.

Panic instantaneously welled up inside, but it was immediately replaced by fear, and finally – gratefully – anger. Over the blood pounding past my ears, I heard Dad's voice echoing in my head. _Yelling at someone who holds more cards than you gives them the higher ground and the perception of power. Always keep the high ground, Lucy-Goose._ Hissing out a breath meant for more colorful language, I quietly seethed, "What did you do with Amy?"

"Now, now, Lucy. Wouldn't want to spoil the fun of the game so early, would we?" Schaeffer chuckled again. "Besides, your girlfriend here understands what it takes to play better than most. Though saucy, her lips are pretty sweet. I can see why you left our world for her."

"Bastard!" The expletive slipped out before I could stop it and it made my teeth grind all the harder knowing he was playing me like a cheap fiddle. I could practically hear him dancing a merry jig that I allowed my anger to show. But I didn't have a choice. Not with Amy on the line. "Schaeffer, if Amy doesn't like her brief stay, you're going to wish you had killed me when you had the chance ten years ago."

"When did little Lucy get all grown up and start making threats of her own? That's such a far cry from the trembling mess watching her father die right in front of her." A muffled howl lingered in the background, innate knowledge telling me it was Amy and that the current conversation was riling her up. "Hey, a little peace and quiet please? I'm trying to have a civil conversation with your girlfriend."

I listened for Amy's usual huff of annoyance, but didn't hear it, which frightened me a little to be honest. She's always quiet and calm while thinking of the best way to launch a full-blown attack. There's no way I could let her try and face Schaeffer before I got there. "Hey Sleazeball, let babe know I need to run an errand before I can swing by and pick her up."

The image of him smirking once again invaded my thoughts. "I look forward to seeing you, Lucy. You should be able to figure out the spot if you are indeed your father's daughter." His insane chuckle set my nerves on fire as it grated through the phone. "Oh, and don't be late. You know how I don't like waiting. Or at least your parents knew."

I waited for the click signifying the end of the call before breaking out in barely choked back sobs. The stress of the situation flooded in all at once, barely allowing me to slip into my car before tears completely blurred my vision.

I slammed a hand into the steering wheel, and then another before finally feeling the sting.

What was I supposed to do? I mean, Amy didn't deserve any of this. She deserved her happily ever after, not a psychopathic killer kidnapping her because of me.

Am I still what Amy needs?

The thought came unbidden, taking me by surprise. I mulled it over and clenched my lips before giving in and allowing them to tremble.

Maybe I wasn't the answer. Maybe she would be better off without me. The icy fingers clutching my gut told me there was no _maybe_ about it.

I scrubbed the tears off my face and tuned out my treacherous thoughts. They certainly weren't helping with the search for Amy.

Not that I needed to search. Schaeffer was right. I did know where to find him. Barcelona had appealed to me during that week with Amy because it offered an escape from the Deb-Diamond thief routine and was home to Amy's preferred art school. Maybe it was stupidity or an insane amount of arrogance that allowed me to overlook the fact that Spain wasn't just where my family came from – it was Schaeffer's old hunting grounds.

And Dad's last safe house.


End file.
